Never Leaving You Behind
by brynerose
Summary: *Set post 3.07* Arthur wakes up the prisoner of a vengeful Cenred, and any attempt at rescue quickly turns complicated, as Merlin finds out. It's going to take clever friends and plans to get out of this in one piece, if at all. No slash, but there will be torture.
1. And Here We Are Again

**Hello all! I finally broke down and decided to post a Merlin fic (the first couple were a little sloppy as they were just for my own amusement, but temptation became too great, and here I am). I will, however, be asking for a lot of input as to what will be included, because I'm still not quite happy with the story as it stands. Help is appreciated! Enjoy ^-^**

* * *

Arthur awoke to the dull aching in his shoulders as well as his head. He was suspended by his wrists, already chafing within thick manacles, stripped of his weapons and chainmail. The room was dark except for the glow of approaching dawn in a tiny window. A chill breeze skimmed thin fabric across his otherwise unprotected back.

Distant clanging alerted him to the presence of others. He recognized the growing flicker of torchlight silhouetting bars to a dungeon hallway. Three pairs of boots, it seemed. His visitors appeared—two of the raiders from earlier, and Cenred himself.

Of course.

Arthur had been on a routine survey of the outlying villages following some complications with border treaties. Two other knights and his faithful (if bumbling) servant, Merlin, had accompanied him. The task itself had been uneventful aside from dealing with the odd wandering thief. But as they camped on the way home, still a fair distance from Camelot, a small raiding party bearing Cenred's colors attacked. Both knights were killed in stealth, and had Merlin not happened to wake at that moment, he probably would have, too. Arthur commanded his servant to run as he pulled out his own sword to fight back. Unfortunately, he took an unseen pommel to the head, and that was the last he knew.

Cenred had just been waiting for his chance to finish what he'd failed to do using Elyan and Gwen as lures. _Why_ hadn't Arthur suspected this before?

The gruff overlord smiled unpleasantly. "My, my, we seem to have snagged ourselves a little prince. How lucky of us."

"My father will make you pay for such treacherous actions!" Arthur spat back. His feet comfortably reached the stone floor, though he had little further room to move. The bandits flanking Cenred chortled. Their dark leader unlocked the cell door so the three of them could enter.

"Hasn't learn much in the way of manners, has he? Best to teach him." Cenred's fist connected solidly with Arthur's stomach. "Show respect for your elders and betters, eh boy?"

Wheezing, Arthur glared at the rival lord. Then he gripped the chains holding him, pushed his feet off the ground, and landed a heavy kick in return. The bandits hurried to steady their master, who had lost all air of humor, face contorted in a snarl. He pulled a knife.

_Whap! Whap!_

Twin streaks of pain erupted on Arthur's cheeks as the flat of the blade connected with them. A trickle of blood followed on one side where the edge had nicked him. He and Cenred stared each other down as the latter worked to bring his composure back under control.

"At this very moment, a messenger is already riding for Camelot to offer your ransom. I don't expect Uther to take it kindly, but we'll have plenty to do in the meantime." Cenred pulled up the rickety stool from the corner of the cell. "After all, is even a crown prince worth giving up all your outlying lands? No matter. When we're done, Camelot will be within my grasp anyway."

"I'd like to see how kidnapping me helps you with that," scoffed Arthur. This time, one of the flunkies silenced him with a kidney punch.

That unpleasant smile of Cenred's returned. "Surely you're not so dense as to have not figured out the pretense of our last meeting. As heir apparent, champion of the great city, and one of its chief defenders, who better to learn Camelot's secrets from? It may have never been taken by siege, but a true destroyer works his way in through the cracks.

"The procedure is simple—every day you refuse, my men get more…creative. We mere mortals can only take so much. Starting now." Cenred gestured as he turned for the door. "I will be in to check on our progress, of course, but there are many other things to attend to, I'm afraid. Good day, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur didn't get a chance to retort. Something dark and heavy collided with his still-tender stomach, completely winding him. A blow to the side of his head followed before he had a chance to regroup his thoughts. The looks on the henchmen's faces were positively sadistic. The chance of a lifetime, he supposed, having a high noble at one's mercy. He set his jaw, and prepared for indefinite pain.

One man swung a small polished club. Hard enough to cause significant pain, but small enough to reach all kinds of sensitive parts. Between the numerous hits to his torso, restrained arms, and head, Arthur soon had trouble gaining air. No matter what happened, however, he couldn't say anything. He would never be the reason Camelot's defenses failed. His job was to protect the city and its lands, and he would, if it took right up to his dying breath.

The other pulled loose a whip that unwove into many smaller lashes at the end. The worked leather cut easily through Arthur's thin undershirt and vulnerable skin. It forced out his first cries, but his resolve held firm.

_Merlin, I hope you got through. Someone has to warn my father…_

* * *

Merlin practically collapsed right into the stream with thirst and exhaustion. He didn't know how long he'd been running. There was neither sight nor sound of Arthur, which worried him. Or the raiders, for which he could at least try to breathe a little easier. This turn of events didn't make sense. Why such a random attack on Cenred's part? What did he hope to gain?

As his heart rate and breathing returned to acceptable ranges, Merlin drank his fill. Dawn was as yet not quite on the horizon. The horses were either lost or taken, and walking back to Camelot would take at least two days. Fate only knew if Arthur had that long.

But taking action all alone could be just as risky. While he had magic, he could hardly go blasting in and let everyone know he had it, least of all Arthur. No, he would have to scout this out, plan exactly what he was going to do and how. Fyrien, Cenred's hideout of late, was not far from here. It was as good a place to start as any. He could backtrack to camp and see if anything salvageable was left. There were always berries and plants he could forage along the way. Whatever it took to save Arthur.

He had never felt so on his own in his life. And that was saying something.

* * *

**So, first big question-most of this is written from Arthur's point of view. Should I include whatever Merlin does to get into the castle, or leave that to the imagination until he meets up with Arthur again? I defer to you readers!**


	2. Plans, and Plans Gone Awry

**A/N: First of all, big thanks to **_**Said The Liar 13, Starzinmieyez, and SereneMayhem**_** for prompt suggestions! Once I wrote the scene out, I ended up reformatting several segments—and suddenly it all made sense! Load of frustration gone, which means a happy me ^-^  
And second—WOW! That has to be one of my top first-day alerts! So glad people seem to like it!**

****"Get this man out of my sight before I strangle him in place of his master," Uther hissed to Sir Leon. The loyal knight bowed and did as he was ordered. Only when all but Gaius and the king himself had left did Uther sink into his throne. His only son, kidnapped for ransom. Two of his knights killed. This was an act of war, yet any aggressive move on his part would only bring Arthur's death.

Gaius, ever the friend and wise counsel, put a hand on the king's shoulder. "Arthur is strong, Sire. He will come through this as he has everything else. Besides, Merlin is still with him, by the sound of it."

"Cenred has no use for keeping servants alive. This is no court visit. I'm sorry, I know you were rather close to the boy."

"Despair will not help you negotiate this, Sire. We must have hope." Gaius stepped away just long enough to bring up a stool for himself. "Both boys are resourceful. All is not yet lost."

"What am I supposed to do, Gaius? Give up all the outer lands to Cenred…I might as well put all of Camelot at his mercy, for all the resources we would need to trade. How am I supposed to be a father and a king this time?"

"You will find a way, I'm sure of it…"

Gwen retreated from the service door. It was wrong to eavesdrop, she knew, but everyone was troubled by the news. Arthur and Merlin kidnapped! And by Cenred, no less—she shivered at the memory of her own capture not too long ago. The warlord failed to get what he wanted out of Arthur then. What would he do to get it now?

She hurried to Morgana's chambers. The young noblewoman had rushed away at the news, seemingly from shock, and might need seeing to. Gwen already greatly worried about her mistress. Morgana never was the same after her year in captivity. She held everyone at greater distance, especially her surrogate family. This saddened Gwen to watch. And there were times when Morgana acted positively suspicious. But no matter. Gwen's purpose was to serve the king's ward, and that's what she did. She certainly didn't have proof of any kind of treachery.

Morgana's soft voice answered Gwen's knock as usual. Gwen bobbed her respect, even though her mistress's gaze was toward the window. "Is there anything you require?"

"No, thank you. I just need some time…the news was…distressing," Morgana replied tonelessly. "Have they found a plan of action yet?"

"Unfortunately no. I can sit with you if you like, keep you company."

"That's not necessary. I might lie down for awhile." Her green eyes met Gwen's at last. There it was again—that strange, almost frosty look behind them. Gwen couldn't quite place why this bothered her.

"Very well. If it's alright with you, then, could I finish with my duties early? I'm a bit shaken up myself."

Morgana nodded, her old smile creeping out. "You work too hard for me already, Gwen. Take what time you need. I know Merlin is a good friend of yours. He's a friend to us all."

"I'm sure he's looking after Arthur, and the prince is quite capable in his own right," commented Gwen, curtsying her way out. Yes, she would need some time. A plan began to take shape in her head. Two people remained in Camelot who had been to Cenred's hideout before. She had no intention of leaving Arthur and Merlin there any longer than necessary.

Dusk was just about to settle when Merlin caught sight of the once-abandoned fortress through the trees. Tension crept up his spine as he remembered the last time he was there. It was so much easier to think of breaking in when Arthur led the charge.

_Get a hold of yourself; you're the most powerful warlock ever!_

_Yeah, but what's that worth if you "can't" use magic right now?_ echoed a snide voice in his mind. Merlin gripped the sides of his head for a moment. _Just another way you're a coward, I suppose._

_No!_

He did what he had to in order to protect Arthur, and so far that included shielding away the dynamite that was his true nature. Magic wouldn't help anything if Arthur wasn't ready for it. Perhaps a sleeping spell or two could help Merlin gain entrance, but otherwise, he always seemed to manage. Was this all that different from any other time he had to save the prince?

As before, he didn't have any real trouble reaching the crags leading to the tunnel opening. As he expected, however, a good half dozen guards lounged between him and his goal. Morgause and Cenred were no fools. Silently he mustered the power to knock all the sentries out at once.

"_Sl__ǽ__p_!"

Merlin counted the thuds of bodies against rock. A brief wave of dizziness washed over him as he moved forward—powerful or not, it took a lot of energy to put six burly men flat.

Once inside, he conjured an orb of light to guide him. Easier to tell the difference if someone came his way. He didn't have long to wait, either. Apparently he caught the watch just before they were to change. Six fresh soldiers joked loud and crass on their way to the entrance. Merlin had to douse his light and duck in a shadowy crevise before they could spot him. He even held his breath.

The men passed without incident. Yet. Now Merlin only had a short time to cover the rest of the tunnel before his handiwork was discovered. Would Arthur be in a condition to fight their way out? _Stupid! You never really think these things through, do you?_ Too late to change his mind at this point. He just spotted the wrought iron that marked the beginnings of the dungeons when a scuffing sound made him spin in a circle. Nothing. Merlin turned back to his path—and a dark elbow swept right into his face.

In the old forge, Elyan was just hanging up a set of horseshoes. Gwen still couldn't believe her brother was back to stay this time. He lightened the sadness she so often felt since their father's death. She didn't feel so alone in the world with him around. And taking over the shop seemed to give Elyan a new purpose, a reason to stay put for once. That, and the intricate little metalcrafts Gwen found lying around.

"Gwen! You're home early. It's not even dark yet. Everything alright?"

Her brief bubble of warmth floated away. "I'm afraid not. That messenger was from Cenred. He's holding Arthur for ransom! Merlin, too, as far as we know." Tears sprang up as she voiced the news.

"Oh, Gwen…" Elyan pulled her into a strong, if sweaty, embrace. "I'm so sorry."

"The ransom is unthinkable; it would leave Camelot incredibly vulnerable! I just don't know what the king's going to do without starting a war. And all the while, Cenred has Arthur—"

"Shh, shh, I'm sure they'll think of something."

"That's just it," she sniffed, wiping her eyes. "They're not the one with a plan. I am. Arthur's and Merlin's only chance might be if someone goes after them without bearing the colors of Camelot. But I'll need help."

"Gwen, you're not serious!"

"They came for us when no one else saw fit to. Arthur lied to get around his father's wishes! Aside from Morgana—and I don't want to involve her, after last time—we're the only ones left who have been in that castle before."

Elyan stared at her in disbelief. "I can't believe you're saying this. It's impossible! We don't have any knowledge of military tactics between us, and who knows where in that huge place they're being held, if at all."

"But we owe them our lives! And I've observed enough to have some idea what to do. Please, Elyan, I can't just sit and do nothing while they're in trouble."

Silence stretched long between them. The flickering of the hearth played sharp shadows on Elyan's dark skin, giving him a fierce look. The look of a determined warrior. At last, he sighed and squeezed her shoulders.

"I must be mad for agreeing to this…"

"It may be madness, but it's the right thing to do." Gwen set about collecting supplies they would need. "Luckily, the first step is to get help—I know just the right person who _does_ have proper tactical knowledge. I just hope he's not too drunk to ride a horse when we catch up with him…"

**We'll be back to the whumpage next chapter, don't worry ::evil smile::  
So, next question—how much of the rescue crew's journey do you think we should see? After the rearranging, I think I know where to include actually finding…(well, you probably know who, but I don't want to spoil it ;-P)…anyway, again, I don't want to stray from the action too long. One of the key points to this is Arthur's POV, and how he has no clue as to outside happenings. Makes for interesting descriptions. Love to hear from you all!**


	3. Found is Not Always Better

**A/N: Okay, I confess I keep going back and forth what I think of how this chapter shaped up, but at the moment I'm happy enough. Hey, if there's some glaring problem with it, I can just re-edit and replace the chapter with a better one ^-^ Thanks so much, those of you who have helped so far-this would have been stuck in the 'ramblings written for my own amusement' pile without you! Enjoy the next bit-as I said, back to the whumpage...**

* * *

Arthur choked as cold water hit his face. He had never truly fallen asleep. Swollen patches around his eyes and jaw throbbed steadily. His back and sides were on fire, the skin tight with dried blood. The remains of his shirt stuck in places. He could feel blisters now opening around his wrists.

One henchman already held the whip again. While Arthur had seen flogging as a punishment before, never had a ruler of Camelot seen need to whip someone twice in such quick succession, whatever the offense. His shredded back protested the very thought of the abuse to come. Suddenly the prospect of holding out for help looked like a long road, indeed.

"We're to do you the courtesy of asking if there's anything you wish to say first," growled the second henchman, who carried an odd metal bucket with a lid in his gloved hands. A long, thin rod stuck out of the top.

Arthur spat thick phlegm from the back of his throat. "Long live the rightful king of Camelot."

The men shrugged. However, no amount of preparation could have helped the agony of the first lash on raw flesh. Arthur bellowed through gritted teeth. He couldn't help but think of the stories of the Great Purge, or the occasional magic-user caught and dealt with as he grew up sheltered and pampered in the castle. The lives of the captives mere levels below his home had never really bothered him. Another lash tore a deep, almost inhuman cry from his lungs. He'd never been this thirsty before, either, aside from being cursed for the unicorn he once killed. Was this how prisoners of war felt? He swore to change the overall treatment of anyone taken by Camelot from here forward. A third lash, and Arthur felt as if his throat were being whipped as well.

"Every castle has its secret entrances," the second man spoke at last. "Should the defenses ever fall, its leaders must have some way of slinking out, even if it is with tails between their legs. Or a service way, to provide the king with everything he might ever want, without having to bother with the wretched sight of servants."

Arthur's throat quickly turned into a desert from how fast he was breathing. He couldn't tell if the spots in his vision were from pain or hyperventilation as the beating continued. Some animal level of his mind begged for the torture to end. No! The only way this would end was if he talked, and that wasn't an option.

"Just one little whisper—you could even pass it off as something we bribed from a weak-minded servant—that's all Cenred wants," the first man hissed in his ear. Arthur clenched the muscles in his jaw, and shook his head. Beads of moisture flew from his soaked bangs. But there was no hiding his growing desperation.

"Ah, I see we're beginning to make an impression."

All three of them looked to the cell door. Cenred himself had reappeared. "You've gotten settled in, I take it. Hopefully everything has been to your expectations. My men haven't spared you anything, have they?"

The henchmen shook their heads, chuffing evilly.

"And surely there be thanks owed for that. Come, Arthur, the niceties must be observed."

Arthur mustered a defiant glare to throw at his captor. "I'm afraid your lackeys don't like to let a word in edgewise. Perhaps this is better settled between men."

"A cheeky one, isn't he?" mused the warlord. "Very well, what shall we talk about, little prince?"

"How about this being the biggest mistake of your miserable attempt as a ruler?" Arthur hissed back.

To his surprise, they unhooked his manacles from the ceiling chain. Except in the next moment they pulled his stiff arms spread-eagled, wrenching his shoulders and further opening the gashes between them. The change in posture forced him to bend forward onto his knees. Cenred pulled the long pole from that metal contraption left by the wall. The other end glowed red hot. True fear spiked through Arthur for the first time. The bucket must be full of hot coals.

"You're a tough one, I'll credit you that. A man of true conviction." He moved the burning end just in front of Arthur's face, close enough to make his eyes water. "What has your father done to deserve such loyalty? He holds everyone, friends, enemies, his own people barely within tolerable limits. I know you've been in my kingdom before. Seen how the people struggle just to live."

"It's not my father's fault you're a ruthless tyrant," rasped Arthur. He yelped as the iron brushed his craned neck.

"Oh, but I'm acting on last resorts. Because of the treaty I was forced to sign, I am all but a subject to Uther myself! Maybe my people wouldn't be starving if I didn't have to give so much to Camelot in the first place. This peace, this _cooperation_ between kingdoms, it's all a façade to ensure he alone remains in control."

Arthur glared at his captor with renewed venom. "How dare you! You wouldn't have a kingdom at all if my father hadn't—aaughh!" The iron dug viciously between his bruised ribs. He could smell the burning of his own skin. Again and again, Cenred applied the hot end to his chest, his arms, his back. When it touched the open lash wounds, what was left of Arthur's ragged voice turned unearthly. The pain owned him. It consumed him. He felt his hold on consciousness failing, and yet the blissful oblivion would not come.

Suddenly the torture stopped. Arthur barely registered angry voices conversing, though his blurry view of long, blonde hair stirred something in his memory. Something even worse than this pain, if that was possible. But he didn't care, as long as he was allowed this respite.

"…Secure him. We'll see what this ruckus is about," Cenred concluded. He and the blonde disappeared together, while the henchmen were left to haul all but dead weight back up onto the chains. Arthur could only groan as his arms returned to their infinitely more uncomfortable first position. He wished they would just fall off, and save him any more hassle.

He had no sense what time it was. The east-facing window had turned dark, but with the torches placed in the cell and hallway, he had no real way of knowing when the darkness fell. Everything seemed like darkness. His mood, the whole disastrous situation, his prospects for living beyond these days of agony. No, less than a day—the camp was attacked just before dawn. But that wasn't right. How could it only have been one day? Surely he must have been unconscious for longer than he realized. Then there was the torture, which itself had gone on immeasurably. Maybe he was losing his mind to the pain…

What felt like another eternity passed before footsteps echoed once more in the hallway, some more shuffling than others. It hurt almost beyond his endurance to move now, but if Arthur was to be known for anything, it was his stubbornness. He would meet his tormentors with a steady gaze.

Or at least that was the plan, until the sight of their new captive hit him like a fresh blow to the gut.

"_Merlin_?!"

"Evening, Sire," the odd young man greeted, smiling around a quite bloody nose and lip.

"I take it this is your idea of a rescue…"

* * *

Gwen could feel her brother's gaze boring into the back of her head. They were onto their fourth tavern in the search, and she knew Elyan was losing patience. She was, too. It was well dark now. Somehow she had imagined the search for her banished friend would be easier; how long could they afford this wild goose chase? How long could Arthur and Merlin afford it? No one even knew for sure where Merlin was in all this, which further unsettled Gwen.

For the umpteenth time, she mulled the options over in her head. She was set about not putting Morgana in such danger again. Maybe it _would_ have been easier to ask one of the knights they trusted for help. Sir Leon, perhaps? But he was a recognizable lieutenant of Camelot, even without his official regalia. And anyway, Gwen doubted she could have convinced any decent knight to slip away from his duties right under Uther's nose. Even if it was to rescue the prince.

Maybe she should have put more thought into this before plowing forward…

"Gwen…" sighed Elyan, having to check his less-than-pleased horse.

She clenched her teeth. "I know, Elyan. You don't have to keep on about it. The maid back there said he was headed to Colbrun, and that he left earlier today. We're sure to find him this time."

"Yeah, unless he's sacked out somewhere in the woods from too much drink. We're not accomplishing anything wandering around like this!"

"Neither would we be if we were sitting at home worrying our heads off! I have to do something! I won't leave Arthur out there to…_that man_." Her stomach clenched once more at the memories.

Sobered, Elyan reached across the gap between their mounts to touch Gwen's shoulder. "I know. Just don't let your head run away with this. Someone's bound to come up with something, whether it's us, this Gwaine fellow, or the king himself. Even Arthur might have a plan up his sleeve."

"Uther's stuck trying to solve the problem without starting a war. Maybe that's what Cenred wants." Gwen slumped in her saddle.

"Well, thinking like that isn't going to get us anywhere. There's the light of the town up ahead. Let's go on what we have to work with, okay?"

"Okay." She was glad Elyan had agreed to go, at any rate.

The tavern was easy to pick out solely on the amount of noise. Rowdy music and awful singing drew them all the way in from the town's edge. A few people already trailed out of the building as if the road bucked beneath their feet. Gwen never could understand the appeal of drinking to the point of dulling one's senses. She'd certainly nursed enough cases of soldiers and servants attempting to go about their duties the morning after.

They secured their horses to an open post, and headed inside. "Do you want anything?" asked Elyan. Gwen shook her head. Her brother asked a passing maid for a pint as they settled at an open table. "So, any sign of this friend of yours?"

"Not that I see yet." Her heart sank. If they didn't find him this time, she wasn't sure what they'd do. She wouldn't be able to get any rest should they choose to stop for the night. But as they discussed time and again, blundering through town after town just on hunches wasn't going to get them far. This was beginning to look hopeless.

A solid form crashed right into their table, collapsing the old wooden structure. Gwen screamed. Elyan cursed at the loss of a full pint of mead. The little group from which the figure came—mostly women, it turned out—tittered with indignation. One of them, a broad-set marm with a cleaning rag, seemed to be in charge.

The man sprawled between them floundered his way into a sitting position. It was Gwaine, of course. Gwen jumped forward to help him up.

"You know this weasel?" growled the overbearing woman.

"Um, yes, he's a friend of ours," Gwen stammered.

"Good. He can be your problem, then. As long as he's kept quiet or out of my tavern!" The group turned back to the rest of the room.

Elyan pulled the drunken man to his feet, his expression none too pleased. "Let's get him out of here."

"Oy! I ain' finished with my drink yet! I paid in 'vance, too—" howled Gwaine.

"Oh, I think you are quite finished," Gwen scolded him. "Honestly! It's a wonder men manage to get anything done properly."

"Tha's rich, comin' from a wench—_hubluhh_!"

Gwaine's slurred rant was cut off as Elyan shoved his head into the horses' water trough. "That's my sister you're talking to!"

Gwen pushed her banished friend's sodden hair from his eyes. "It's me, Gwen. From Camelot, remember? We've been looking all over for you!"

"Aggh, pleh! You're something to look over, tha's fer sure—"

This time Gwen dunked the unruly man herself. When he came up sputtering the second time, a flash of recognition crossed his face. "Wha—Gwen? What're you doing way out here? I been clear 'a Camelot just like his kingship wanted! 'N his royal high-horseness? Where's he?"

"Just be quiet for a moment will you!" hissed Gwen. "We need you to come with us, please, and I'll explain on the way. Enough time has been wasted already."

"Eh?"

Gwen glanced around, then lowered her voice a bit more. "Arthur and Merlin are in trouble. We need your help."

That, not to mention the chilled water, seemed to sober Gwaine up.


	4. Party Crashing Only Gets You in Trouble

"Merlin, this has to be the stupidest thing you've ever done," Arthur growled. His manservant dangled comically between the two henchmen, wearing that stupid grin as always. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"Well, seeing as this fellow's already been to Camelot and back, I figured I'd come check on you. After all, it's easier to get in when you're not much of a threat." Merlin's banter was cut off by a swift knee to the stomach from said messenger. Arthur rolled his blackened eyes.

_He really is a few men short of an army. Some days more than others…_ His thoughts were interrupted, however, as Cenred yanked Arthur's head back by his hair. The cool blade of a knife pressed against his battered throat.

"Touching as this little reunion is, it doesn't change what I want. Perhaps you, boy," the warlord gestured to Merlin, "would be willing to offer a way into Camelot in exchange for your master's life?"

"Oh, I don't think he'd like that very much," blustered Merlin. "Besides, what could I know? I'm just—"

"A servant," Cenred snapped back. "And quite a nosy, self-satisfied one. We'll see how satisfied you are with this!" He punctuated his statement by jabbing the knife point into Arthur's right shoulder. Arthur couldn't stop the howl of pain.

Merlin jumped forward in his captors' grips. "No! Okay, okay! Do whatever you want with me; he's never seen the castle like the servants have! Just put the punishment on me instead!" A blow to the head left him dazed looking for a moment.

"No, Merlin, it's me they want. They have no reason to torture you as long as they have me," Arthur retorted as he felt the blade scrape bone.

"It's my duty to protect you, Arthur, and I will with all the power I possess!"

"Yes, I'm sure you're feeling very powerful at the moment—"

Cenred removed the knife, rolling his eyes. "Good lord, this is like listening to a pair of lovers…"

"Well, I came after you, didn't I?" the wiry servant threw out.

"Merlin, I order you to stand down and _shut up_!" Arthur shouted over both of them. His strained voice betrayed the fire raging in his shoulder.

Merlin still shook his head. "Not this time, Sire. Camelot needs you." Three more blows to his torso in quick succession, and his thin chest heaved for air. Which didn't seem to be coming.

"_Stop it_!" the plea tore from Arthur's. He was desperate not to see Merlin hurt on his account. Stupid though his loyal helper often was, this was not his battle. And Arthur feared what he might get them both into.

"Oh, it seems we've found a soft spot," crooned a female voice. The blonde—Morgause, Arthur remembered now—slunk into view. "Let's rearrange things, shall we? Put the servant on the chains, and Arthur in the opposite cell to watch. I'll take over for awhile. You'd best check the defenses, Cenred. Surely the boy wasn't self-important enough to come alone."

"Whatever gets the job done." Cenred bowed his way out. One henchman wrestled Arthur from his restraints while the other helped Morgause secure Merlin with another set of irons. Arthur wanted to struggle; he tried, in fact, but his tortured body wouldn't cooperate. The gruff lackey dumped him in the other cell and slammed the door, making Arthur's head ring like the castle bells. His arms shook as he tried to raise himself out of the mildewed straw.

"Please, he has nothing to do with this," he croaked.

"But he has everything to do with this," purred Morgause. She ran a finger along Merlin's jaw, making the servant flinch. "The thing about commanding one's subjects is you can't let your feelings get tied up with them. Followers are useful, but disposable. I knew even before your little pet showed up that you were overly fond of him. And the longer you refuse to give me what Cenred and I want, the more pain he feels."

"Whips and clubs don't scare me, witch," Merlin put up a brave front.

_I suppose he gets points for trying_, thought Arthur.

Morgause laughed. "You think I'd bother with such petty toys? You're fools, the both of you. Why use them when I have this!" She thrust a hand out, though she didn't touch Merlin. Her eyes glowed, and suddenly Merlin screamed as if he were burning on the inside.

"No!" Arthur bellowed along with his servant.

Her attacks came in waves; she would hold the spell until Merlin seemed on the verge of passing out, and then she'd give him just enough respite to gain his breath before making him scream again. Adrenaline spurred Arthur into rattling the door of his cell, raging to get free. He pounded the bars until he felt a _crack_ in his left hand.

Merlin was reduced to gasping and whimpering. The deranged witch turned her back on him for a moment. "You can stop this, you know, Arthur. He shouldn't have to suffer for your stubbornness. Anyway, it's not like you're ultimately going to get out of this alive. You've been a thorn in my side for too long, Arthur Pendragon. No more." Her cold blue eyes burned into him.

"Camelot will never be yours. Merlin stands for that just as I do," Arthur spat. Strength temporarily spent, he sagged against the cell door. Each of his wounds clamored to make itself known. His torn right shoulder was seized up from trying to hold his weight.

"Very well."

Merlin let out a gut-wrenching moan. His whole body spasmed, and blood appeared with the horrible coughing that followed. Morgause was tearing him apart from the inside. The scrawny servant's already pale face went ash white. Every jerky movement caused him to grimace. Even the henchmen looked on in horror. Meanwhile Arthur renewed his shouts and pounding with everything he had left. No, he couldn't let Merlin die by his doing!

Far above their heads, the bells suddenly clamored out. Morgause's concentration finally broke. She whirled on the henchmen who had stood there dumbly this entire time. "Get up there and find out what's happened! I'll finish this myself."

They seemed grateful to go. Arthur heard one of them retching as they disappeared down the hall. But they didn't matter. Only Merlin did, swaying limply on the chains where Arthur himself had been not too long ago. The sight nearly made him sick, too, if his stomach didn't happen to be completely empty.

"You're stronger than I give you credit for," mused the blonde witch. She studied Merlin's sagging form, caressing his cheek again. He didn't react anymore. "For as much as you seem to care about him, you let him endure so much. Maybe you have the makings of a king yet." She wiped her hand on her knee. "But I _will_ get what I want. You cannot resist me forever." Merlin's frame went faintly rigid again.

Despair swelled in Arthur's heart. He had been prepared to take Camelot's secrets to his death, but with magic, Morgause would not let him do that. She could truly cause unending pain. Torture without unwittingly killing him. She was right. He couldn't stand up to that indefinitely…no one could…

One of the henchmen clambered back along the hallway, huffing like a boar. "Milady, your suspicion was correct, it seems we're about to be under attack! Torches—scores of them, among the rocks! They must have sent the boy as a distraction."

Morgause's eyes went huge. "I knew he couldn't have come alone! Who is it? Uther wouldn't dare, for fear of his son's life!"

"We can't—tell," wheezed the henchman. "Their banners are hidden. But the force is large, and Cenred has called the men to arms."

"I shall see to this. Whoever it is, they will see the result of their insolence when Arthur hangs from the battlements! Get three more men and some rope. Meet me at the east wall. Kill the servant." With that she stormed out.

The henchman pulled a knife from his belt. Arthur could only look on in horror—that is, until the strangest thing happened. The would-be assassin had only just stepped in the open cell when he tripped over the bucket of coals that still sat there (had Cenred really left them in the middle of the floor?). The sparking contents spilled over his boots, causing him to jump and howl. Then the long-since-cooled iron, which had been propped against the far wall, slipped and knocked the man across the head. Must have bumped it in that little dance. He fell unconscious. _Huh, lucky break there…_

Arthur went at his own door with renewed energy. It was now or never. He could only hope whoever waited outside the fortress walls was a friend.

Merlin mumbled something incoherent, spurring Arthur on further. "Good, you haven't gone and died on me. Just give me a minute…" On the next shove, the door suddenly gave way. Just as well, as he wasn't sure his better shoulder could have taken much more. He rose stiffly and not quite steady, but able to unhook Merlin from the ceiling chains. Good thing his servant was so waifish. Both of them were still bound by manacles; that would have to do until they reached help. The oaf of a soldier's sword would be handy, though.

"Leave me, Arthur…" Merlin rasped weakly.

"Sorry, can't do that."

The gangly young man moaned as Arthur looped his bound arms over his own head to support him. "You're badly hurt…I'll just slow you down…"

"I'm not leaving you behind. You certainly didn't leave me, although I ordered you to."

"Well, there's sort of a duty to one's master that frowns upon that." A ghost of a smile reached his servant's bloodstained lips. Arthur couldn't resist cracking a tired smile as well. He nudged the cell door shut as they exited.

"And why would I get rid of such a model servant? Shut up and come on."

They stumbled through the lower passages to the tunnels through which they had entered on their last visit. Hopefully that henchman remained unconscious long enough for them to gain some distance.

* * *

**A/N: I know some people have commented how glad they are to see Arthur whump instead of Merlin whump...sorry, I follow where the Muse goes, and in feasibility he was not going to get out of this without some ouch. He's just a trouble magnet, silly boy. But this IS still Arthur's story, don't worry. Anyway, thanks to SereneMayhem for being so tickled by Gwaine's appearance-you restored my confidence in that chapter ::happy face!:: Stay tuned, we're not out of the woods yet! (in fact, we're heading into the woods, haha...yeah, shutting up now...)**


	5. Flight to Freedom--Maybe

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! I got caught up in a rather random but significant revision of the latter chapters, and then realized if I was going to have a Halloween costume, I had better finish fixing my dress (going as River Tam this year!). Oh, and I keep getting preoccupied with NaNoWriMo prep at odd hours. So here's the next installment!**

* * *

"How long, do you think, before they realize none of those fires are moving?" Elyan asked.

Gwaine shrugged. "Well, battle is all gambling, if you think about it." He looked very pleased with himself as they surveyed the lines of fire from a distance. Rows of impromptu torches, almost like a real army—at least to the distant, paranoid eye. "I'm actually proud of this one. It might just work."

"You're _sure _he's not still drunk?"

Gwen rolled her eyes at both of them. The situation wasn't ideal, but it was the best they had to work with. "They'll be preoccupied for some time just with preparations. With their attention focused on the walls, we can slip into the tunnels and right to the dungeons."

"Did I mention I think this is crazy?"

"Well, you didn't have any better ideas."

Far ahead, the front gates opened to disgorge a menacing patrol. Good or bad, this plan just became a great deal more complicated.

They hurried through the outskirts of the forest line, masked by grey-green cloaks. That bit was one of Gwaine's more ingenious suggestions. In the dead of night, they blended right in with the shadows of the rocks and trees.

"If memory serves me right, the tunnel we left from should be right around—" Gwen stopped dead in her tracks. Something up ahead was making a great deal of noise. Grunting, rustling, clinking noise. She feared and hoped all at once as she edged around a thicket. Elyan and Gwaine rushed after her, drawing their swords. Almost immediately, however, they all tumbled together as she suddenly halted once more.

Both of them were covered in blood, barely staying upright. Merlin didn't even look fully conscious, and was paler than a ghost. Gwen bit back a scream. Arthur was stripped to his very tattered undershirt and riding trousers. Much of his exposed skin was black and blue. Even in the dark, she could make out wicked track marks that snaked around his shoulders. He was shivering. Both of them were still in heavy manacles, though Arthur had gained a sword. It too was bloodied.

"Take—Merlin," gasped the prince. "The witch, Morgause…she tortured him with magic. Tried to get me to tell her Camelot's secrets…"

From the above towers, all the bells pealed out to the night air.

"We have to go! The horses aren't far," hissed Gwaine. He and Elyan hefted Merlin between them. Arthur was steadier on his feet, so Gwen had little trouble guiding him along. But she had a hard time finding a position to support him that didn't elicit a pained grunt.

"Tell…my father…I didn't talk…I didn't betray Camelot…" Arthur rambled in her ear.

"You'll be able to tell him yourself soon enough," Gwen reassured him. "Don't speak now. Conserve what strength you have left. We'll get you home."

Gwaine took Merlin on his horse, and Arthur rode with Gwen (she insisted it was okay). With the bells still ringing out behind them, they rode for Camelot with all the speed possible, given the circumstances. Deer and other night creatures startled before them, clearing the path. Gwen's heart clenched at every agonized noise Arthur made. The hurt he must have endured…was _still_ enduring. The sooner they reached Gaius, the better.

They cleared the border without more than distant rumblings of Cenred's pursuit. Though Gwaine reminded them he was banned from setting foot in Camelot, Elyan and Gwen pressed the need to get Arthur and Merlin well inside. So they continued on, not pausing again until they reached the main road that ran directly to the city. It was at this point that Arthur begged for a chance to rest.

Elyan started a smokeless fire. Gwaine carefully made sure Merlin was settled in. The frail servant had only stirred enough to recognize that he was among friends again. He sipped a little water, and drifted back off.

Gwen heated some of their water to start tending to Arthur's wounds. His back was in an awful state—the skin in blood-crusted ribbons, and dotted with mottled burns. Underneath the manacles, his wrists were worn horribly raw. The outside of his left hand was swollen, but she knew nothing of the treatment of broken bones. Then there was the stab wound to his right shoulder, which she bound up as best she could. There was no way to _not_ cause him pain, and that fact tore into her heart.

"You're doing what you can, Gwen. Thank you," the weary prince whispered. He managed to nibble some bread and drink water, which seemed to restore some life into him. To the east, soft light was growing on the horizon. "How is Merlin?"

"I'm afraid it'll be up to Gaius to figure out what Morgause did," lamented Gwen. "But at least he's breathing steady. I can't believe anyone would be so heartless as to do this! To purposely cause such pain to someone when they haven't done anything!"

"There are those who don't find me so blameless, or my father. Resentment breeds darkness in men's hearts…"

"Shh, don't worry about that now. Try to get some sleep. Here, rest your head on my lap, so your shoulder doesn't chafe on the ground so much."

She could see that he was too exhausted to argue.

* * *

"You there! What business do you have in Camelot?"

Gwen jumped awake, which in turn jostled Arthur, who cried out in pain. Half a dozen red-cloaked men on horses stood over them. Gwaine had his empty hands in the air, Elyan taking a defensive stance in front of a well-covered Merlin.

"Yes, you—the king still has a standing banishment on you. This is grounds for imprisonment at the very least!"

"Leon, you idiot, he's with me—ahh!" Arthur's defense of Gwaine only aggravated his infirm condition. Gwen gently tried to keep him from moving. As for the knights, they finally recognized the mess of a figure before them. Each of them bowed their heads with a scattered chorus of 'Sires.'

"Gwaine was the one who found the prince and his servant near the border," Elyan hastily chimed in. It took Gwaine a moment to mask his surprise at the quick cover story. "How they escaped, even he doesn't know. My sister and I were out for a ride last evening, and found him trying to haul them both back himself. They were in no condition to go further for the night, so we made camp. Please, we must get them to the castle now with all speed!"

The patrol quickly became all business. This time they took on the wounded escapees, and a third closely escorted a disarmed Gwaine. Gwen and Elyan were free to steer their own horses. One knight rode ahead to alert the court.

"I'm okay, Gwen, really," Arthur tried to reassure her. She returned a worried smile. Then they were off. The towers of the upper city never looked so welcoming. They sped through the streets, citizens scattering to the sides at Leon's booming voice. Just beyond the gates to castle itself, Uther and Gaius waited with the forerunning knight.

"Arthur, is it true? You managed to escape Cenred's scheme!" The king rushed forward in a very un-regal manner. Arthur practically collapsed into his father's arms. Servants ran to join them with a stretcher.

"We couldn't have done it without help from the outside," replied Arthur. He gestured toward Gwaine. "If he hadn't distracted the entire watch into raising the alarm, Merlin and I never would have had the chance. Then he got us to the border of Camelot."

"And that's where we found them. Elyan and I couldn't take them on our own, so we begged Gwaine to accompany us. He's here with nothing but the most honorable intentions," Gwen hastily added. They could worry about matching up details to the story later.

Uther eyed each of them carefully. "I will grant a temporary lift of the banishment. You will be closely monitored, make no mistake."

Gwaine nodded his understanding.

"Sire, if I may, Arthur and Merlin are both in great need of medical attention," pressed Gaius. Even as the conversation went on, other attendants had lowered the physician's nephew onto a second stretcher.

"Please, then. I'll send for the court blacksmith to remove those unsightly chains." Uther waved everyone else to their business.

Arthur grabbed the wrist of one of his bearers. "I'll go with Merlin to Gaius' chambers. It'll be quicker and easier for treatment."

Uther shot him a reproving glance. "Don't be silly, Arthur—"

"Anyone else in such a condition would be taken to the sick ward; I shouldn't be any different. It's not exactly going to be a simple task of patching me back together."

"You are the crown prince! I will not have you—"

"That is my decision, Father!" He looked his bearers in the eyes. "Go, this trip has been torturous enough."


	6. Wonders Never Cease

**A/N: Sorry about the delay. I puttered and pondered and still don't quite know what I think of it, and on top of that I've had my NaNo project to work on. BUt I don't like to leave stories unfinished! Thanks to those of you who have stuck around; your input has been very helpful ^-^**

* * *

"I'll have to wash the area and apply the balm twice a day to minimize scarring, Sire," Gaius explained. Face buried in the pillow to keep from crying out, Arthur just nodded. There was a _clink_ of glass on the wood table, and then rustling of cloth. "Now, we're going to have to sit you up."

Arthur grimaced at the movement. His whole body ached, the puckered skin all over his back prickling as it shifted. He stared blankly at his bandaged wrists, at the light board bound to his broken hand, while patiently allowing Gaius to dress the worst of the burns and lashings. This recovery would not be easy. After awhile, his gaze shifted to the cracked door at the back of the room.

"How is he, Gaius?"

"Sleeping. I'm not sure what sort of spells she used, but they are not ongoing. He needs time to heal above all. Probably just won't be able to eat anything solid for a few days."

Arthur hung his head. "He never should have been there."

"Well, we both know how stubborn he is." The old physician secured the end of the last strip. "When he's got something into his head, there's no talking him out of it. Looking after you, for instance."

"And I almost got him killed."

"He'd willingly give up his life if it meant sparing you."

"I don't want him to have to…"

Gaius handed Arthur a cup. "Drink this, it'll help with the pain. And most importantly, let yourself _rest_."

"I want to see him."

"Give yourself a chance to recuperate. You may not have endured magic, but what you did suffer was not light by any means," Gaius insisted.

"Please…I just need to."

"Very well."

Arthur let himself be pulled to his feet. The pain and potions made him a bit lightheaded, and his exhaustion was catching up with him. He just had to do this first.

Merlin looked smaller than usual, tucked into bed like he was. The blood had been cleaned away; Gwen did her work well. Aside from the compress and his still too-pale skin, the stubborn servant looked almost back to normal.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you like you have me," croaked Arthur. He wobbled, held upright only by Gaius' firm grip.

"Alright, back to bed before your father catches us. He'd have my hide if I wasn't doing everything in my power to get you well again."

Arthur managed a smile at this. He cooperated from then on, even taking a bowl of broth and two cups of water. Then he let herb-induced sleep take him. They were alive. That alone thwarted Cenred's plans. He was still here to protect Camelot. And Merlin would still be there to offer whatever protection he _thought_ Arthur needed. Which might be a little more than he cared to admit.

* * *

Gwen chewed her lip in frustration. Maybe it was just her worrying, but Arthur's fever seemed higher. Infection had cropped up in his older wounds, and not a full day had passed since Gaius released him before he fell ill in his own chambers. The physician assured them all it was not life threatening, as long as it was dutifully treated.

A knock sounded at the door; Gwen called, "Come in." George entered with supplies from Gaius, who had been summoned away to an overturned cart in the lower town.

"His highness's tonic," announced the dull servant. "As well as the ointment, shears, and bandages. Let me fetch the water pot from the fire." He set the items on the bedside closest to Gwen, hurrying about to collect the rest of what they needed, and generally straightening up the chamber. However, his presence only reminded her of what else was amiss.

Merlin, though seeming to be back in good health, had yet to wake up. Gaius theorized that he just had to recover his strength. The young man's gag reflex had allowed them to feed him water and broth at times, so he wasn't starving. But Gwen didn't like this lingering unconsciousness. Merlin wasn't the same when he was lying there, prone and quiet. And with Arthur bedridden, her attention divided further between the prince, her close friend, and her usual duties to Morgana. She just wanted things to go back to normal.

"George, I'm going to need help with the process."

For the first time, the odd man showed reservation. "Um, if it's all the same, I think I'll keep on with the chores…"

"I can't hold Arthur and treat his injuries properly. I need another set of hands," Gwen refuted, exasperated. George grimaced, but returned to the bed. As the bandages revealed the half-healed mess on the prince's back, he turned a distinct green color. He handled Arthur as little as possible.

"Are you alright, George?"

"Of course, miss…I just…the affairs of battle are a rare, um, non-specialty of mine," the substitute servant forced out. He swallowed hard as his gaze caught sight of the awful wounds again. "Please, do what you need to do."

Gwen sighed. "Unfortunately, this isn't the result of battle. I think I could stand it better if it were. Cenred tortured him."

She thought George was going to lose his lunch right there on the ornate bedspread. But he held firm, if looking pointedly at some obscure point on the far wall. She hurried with her task of bathing Arthur's back, applying the ointment, and redressing the area. George let out a small whimper of relief as he rested the prince back onto the pillows.

"Thank you. You can go back to what you were doing," Gwen assured her fellow servant, wiping her hands and refreshing the cold compress. Once the nervous man had escaped to fill a basket with laundry, she carefully fed Arthur his tonic.

The young royal suddenly scrunched up his face. "Auulgh, tha's awful…"

"Nice to see you, too. Stay still, I'll get you something to chase it down." Gwen rose to fetch a cup from the table, taking away the soiled bandages at the same time. The prince watched her work.

"So, George is squeamish of raw injuries, eh?" Arthur kept his voice low.

"You heard all that?"

"I thought it might be easier on both of you if I just stayed out of it. You're certainly gentler than Gaius."

Gwen smiled. "He means well, though. We all want you to get well as soon as possible." She helped him raise his head enough to sip the cool water. "How do you feel?"

"Stiff," he grunted. "My back smarts from being messed with, but that's wearing off now. My head's not swimming so much."

"Good, your fever's probably close to breaking, then." Gwen set the water down so she could better arrange the covers around Arthur.

"And Merlin? Where is he, if George is clearing up after him?"

Gwen bit her lip.

"Gwen…"

"He hasn't woken up yet. Gaius said he's still really weak even though the spells didn't do too much physical damage." She avoided making eye contact.

Arthur's good fist bounced forcefully next to him on the mattress.

"But other than that, he's doing fine. He drank some broth for me this morning."

"I thought you said he wasn't awake?"

"It's a reflex, Arthur. It means he can get stronger faster."

"Oh." Worry didn't completely dissipate from the prince's features. Both of them jumped at the sound of George shutting the door after himself. The silence was a little awkward, the two of them being alone and him being barely-dressed, if covered by blankets.

"Will you be needing anything else? I have a few things I need to pick up for Morgana," Gwen spoke up, clearing her throat.

Arthur looked slightly lost. "Um, no, I'm fine. Just leave some more water on the bedside table, if you would…"

"Of course. Gaius says you'll be able to get to and from his chambers in a day or so for treatment. As long as you take it slow, the exercise will help you recover." Gwen shyly gathered things up and started toward the door.

"Oh, okay. And Gwen?"

She turned to face him, hand on the door latch.

"Thank you. For all this."

Gwen curtsied. "Least I could do."

Arthur studied the sunlight filtering through his curtains for a long time. He neglected to tell Gwen that his dream just before waking had been of remaining trapped in that dank cell. No one had come for him. His wounds just ate away at his being until there was nothing left. And Cenred just laughed at him, sneering, "Looks like there wasn't much to the 'once and future king' after all…"

The sooner things got back to normal, the more he would have on his plate to push these unpleasant echoes out of his mind. As much as he harried Merlin about being ousted from bed every morning, he preferred it to this nothingness of the past few days. And if the klutzy manservant wasn't conscious before Arthur _could_ make it to Gaius' chambers, he would be in for his own rude awakening. Anything to put this nightmare in the past.


	7. Pain Doesn't Last Forever, Thankfully

**A/N: First of all, can I just say that I spent the second half of "The Hollow Queen" with my eyes bugging out of my head? Gahh! Props to Colin-as a fellow actor, I know some actions feel absolutely ridiculous when you're doing them, even when they turn out great onscreen. Sometimes I watch more as a performer than a fan...:sheepish grin::**

**That being said, here we are wrapping things up! I'm glad I let is sit a few days before checking it over again; let's me be much less writing-conscious. Maybe it'll teach me to better trust at least some flash impulses (note to self, this does not include those that occur while shopping)! Thanks for reading ^-^**

* * *

Pain. Waves of penetrating, all-consuming pain. He felt like he was losing his mind to it. It wormed around inside him and fed until surely there must be nothing left. Then still it went on. His whole being convulsed with it.

Merlin knew the voices floating outside the pain, though he couldn't place them. If only he could break through this suffocating entrapment. He remembered something about trouble, Arthur being in trouble. The prince! He had to find the prince. Someone wanted information out of him. Secrets—ones they were willing to hurt for. That they _had _hurt for. An image of Arthur beaten and bloody flashed in his mind. No, he had to save him!

The source of the pain stopped, though he hardly noticed it for the resounding echoes it left behind. He had no sense of his surroundings, or even his own body. Nothing but pain. But there was an absence…some kind of void that only his spirit could detect. Magic. Whoever had been nearby with magic, they were now gone.

Muted shuffling reached his ears. Someone else, not magical, coming very close. On instinct, Merlin reached out to the nearest object of any substance. The newcomer tripped over it and fell against the wall. Merlin let another tall, hard, something fall across the person's head for good measure.

A cell door swam across his vision, or maybe it was just his imagination. He mumbled the spell for unlocking it. Between the effort for magic and the ever-present pain, he almost lost consciousness. One of the familiar voices from earlier spoke again, however, keeping him anchored. Strong, friendly hands gripped him. His weight stopped pulling at his shoulders so awkwardly.

_Arthur…_ It seems one of them found the other after all.

"Leave me, Arthur…" Merlin rasped. He was surprised the words were actually audible.

"Sorry, can't do that." Definitely Arthur. Merlin had never been so relieved to hear the prince speak, even if his voice carried its own strain. They started an ungainly journey…somewhere.

More images of Arthur bloody, Arthur in pain, surfaced through his muddled senses. "You're badly hurt…I'll just slow you down…" No sense jeopardizing the future king's chances of getting to safety. He, Merlin, was expendable in the end…

"I'm not leaving you behind. You certainly didn't leave me, although I ordered you to."

"Well, there's sort of a duty to one's master that frowns upon that," Merlin quipped, vaguely sensing an upturn in his tacky lips. And an overpowering coppery taste. Close to his ear, Arthur chuckled as well.

"And why would I get rid of such a model servant? Shut up and come on."

This was all becoming too much. Why couldn't he just float away in the pain and not bother anymore? Why were they in this position, again? Everything felt so heavy…if only he could convince his body to stop moving and lie down…

"Oh, no you don't. I need you to stay with me, Merlin, you hear? Stay awake! I can't drag both of us back to Camelot like this."

Merlin didn't have the energy left to respond one way or the other. His feet seemed to move of their own accord, step after step after agonizing step. Such movement rekindled the pain deep inside him, so that it threatened to become his whole world once more. Only Arthur's occasional grunts and wry comments about 'nobles carrying their own servants' kept him from drifting away in his head.

At some point, the air turned drier, cooler, less stuffy. He really couldn't care less. This was just like the pain, waiting for it all to blur into nothingness, unable to affect it in the slightest. A light, pleasant rustling sound filled in the edges around his little world. Maybe this more peaceful change could carry him to oblivion.

Suddenly a quiet clamor of voices drowned out the rustling. He thought he heard Gwen…no, she shouldn't be here. His awareness rocked this way and that as hands—though not rough—guided his strangely detached body around a world he couldn't see. He was lifted, and then a burst of new pain and bucking surroundings finally pushed him over the edge of the looming darkness.

Things couldn't be more different the next he knew. The pain, while still present, was more of a dull, reverberating background. He was at last lying down, cocooned between a firm surface and a soft, warm covering. Someone situated his head on an object he could hardly guess. Knuckles gently rubbed into his chest.

"Merlin? You're safe now. We're well inside Camelot's lands. It would help us a great deal if you had some of this," said another familiar voice. One that he hadn't expected to hear.

Something solid touched his glue-like lips. It produced cool, refreshing liquid, which Merlin was glad of. He took enough to clear his mouth of the awful sticky-dryness. Now if he could just go back to being disconnected from everything, forever…

Again his entire world changed by the time he returned to the surface. A swirling cacophony of fragrances took the place of fresh, open air. But they reassured him somehow. He was bundled up in almost stifling warmth, and the pain had settled down into more of a fading ache. It no longer reached every corner of his being. And somewhere just beyond his immediate awareness, something stirred.

Merlin opened his eyes. He was staring at the ceiling of his own room in Camelot, swathed in bedclothes and blankets. Soft morning sunlight filtered in the window. His door was not quite closed, letting in the sounds of movement on the other side. He found getting to his feet wasn't too difficult.

A sandy haired, barrel-chested figure stood near the cot in the main chamber. Bandages covered his entire otherwise bare torso. A few lingering marks strayed out from under the fabric. The left hand was bound flat to a piece of wood.

"I see you're still in one piece," Merlin croaked.

Arthur spun on his heel, immediately suppressing a wince. The lingering shadows of sickness…and something else…hung around his eyes. "Merlin! And here I thought you were going to play Sleeping Beauty until we all went grey. You should see the state my chambers are in. That's the thanks I get for dragging you out of captivity, I suppose." But his grin betrayed honest relief all the same.

"You caught me," shrugged Merlin. He accepted the cup of water Arthur proffered. "To tell you the truth, playing possum gets rather boring. Much more fun taking the mickey out of you."

"Is that so? We'll see who's taking it out of whom soon enough."

Though his voice joked, Arthur's light-hearted attitude didn't seem to reach all of him. Merlin sensed a tension he'd never seen in the prince before—dare he say it, a fear? But he _had _seen it in other people. People who had been caged, attacked, left to feel utterly vulnerable by forces they couldn't control. As a young and largely successful campaigner, Arthur Pendragon had never—to Merlin's knowledge, anyway—been in such a position.

His thoughts were interrupted by Gaius' entrance. The old physician did a short double-take when he realized Merlin was standing there, sock-footed and wrapped in a blanket.

"Merlin! I didn't expect you to be out of bed. You've been unconscious for days," he blustered.

"Morgause laid me out pretty well, yeah. Seems to have finally worn off," replied Merlin.

Arthur stared at him for a moment. "So you remember what happened?"

"Yeah, now that I'm not mad with pure agony. Camelot was too far to go back for help on foot, and we'd snuck into Fyrien before…sorry I botched that up, by the way."

Arthur mugged his famous 'oh really, Merlin' face.

"Anyway, we couldn't give her what she wanted, no matter the cost. I was willing to follow you to the end," Merlin assured the prince.

"Well, you can rest easy on that," said Gaius. "Arthur says neither of you gave up anything. The kingdom is grateful, whether they know it or not. Now, we'd best get to your treatment, Sire. Your father won't want you to be late for council."

The court physician carefully took a pair of shears to the bandages covering Arthur's torso. When they fell away, Merlin involuntarily sat on the nearest bench. The prince's entire back was a lacework of mottled stripes and shiny burns. A few looked to have been slowed in healing by infection, hence his peaked appearance. Most of the bruises were receding, but they highlighted the pink scars with yellow and green tints. He sat still while Gaius gently washed, then applied ointment to the vast area. Fresh bandages followed.

"And the tonic, to keep the infection in retreat," finished their old friend, picking up a vial. Arthur drank obediently.

"I…I-I-I should have gotten there sooner…" Merlin whispered.

"By rights, you shouldn't have been there at all," Arthur called over his shoulder. "Cenred intended this all along, and you heard Morgause admit she was going to have us killed. Conflict is never neat or pretty. Blaming yourself won't help anything." He wiggled stiffly into his shirt. "Gaius, could I have a little something for the pain? It's much better than before, but it still keeps me from focusing."

The physician nodded, and disappeared into his stores.

"It's haunting you, isn't it?" Merlin whispered. Try as Arthur might to look the stoic prince, his anxiety bled through as his wounds once had. He nodded reluctantly when Merlin refused to look away.

"I still see it—still _feel_ it—in my dreams. I think of how it could have gone, if Cenred's taunts had been true. Maybe he's right. How can I lead if I feel like this?"

"I think it reminds you you're human. You now understand the pain felt by so many people…and you're in a position to do something about it." Merlin wasn't sure where this speech was coming from, only that Arthur's demeanor seemed to warrant it. "People respond to others who have been where they are. It's a sort of automatic kinship. What sets leaders apart is they let such experiences affect them for the better."

Arthur looked ever so slightly doubtful. "And that just makes the nightmares go away."

"Not necessarily, at least at first, anyway. But it lessens their power over you."

"And you know this because…?"

"I have enough of my own experiences that I'd like to forget."

They let a beat of silence hang between them. In that pause, Gaius chose to reemerge, showing no indication if he had heard any of the exchange. He only handed another vial to Arthur, who nodded his thanks.

"I'm needed at court. It's good to see you doing better, Merlin…and…thanks."

Merlin smiled at this rare show of the true man destined to be king. "Thank you, Sire."

"Just don't go making a habit of needing saving, alright?" The prince left smiling as well. Merlin shook his head. And some things would never change. He wouldn't have them any other way, either.


End file.
